The Traitor's Love
by LuvGreenEmber
Summary: In the early days of King Jupiter's reign, three lives we know well today intersect with a deadly conclusion. Follow the story from the perspectives of Sween, Whittle, and Garten in the years leading up to the infamous betrayal. Who loved who first?
1. Chapter 1 - Sween

So many bloody conquests begin with innocent love. So it was with this war. To think that something so small as a kinship between children could spiral into such awful horrors makes one wary of the smallest choices. It is a burden I carry from day to day, especially in this delicate existence. I know he's the same person somewhere deep beneath his heart of stone. Until he lets go of the past, I am fearful of the future.

Ah, the past, the memories! Those childhood games and hours of fun have turned to bloody battle and betrayal at every turn. I shudder to think what people would say if they knew that I was the cause of it all. So here I chronicle the thoughts and stories that weigh upon my mind like stones, from start to finish.

I was running again, the wind rushing past my ears, which lay flat against my head. Shouts of, "We'll get you, Sween Furrow!" echoed in my ears, though I hardly registered the words. I just ran, like always. Running, no refuge ahead and certainly none behind. My feet dug into the earth, propelling me forward, faster with every step. The woods around me were a blur of red and gold. Autumn in the Great Wood was beautiful, but I never had time to notice it. Not with all the enemies I'd managed to make.

Before I knew what was happening, pain flared in my left leg and I flew forward, ramming into a tree trunk. My foot had caught on a stone and there was no hope of escaping the pack that was hunting me down. The world spun like a kaleidoscope around my head as waves of dizziness clouded my mind. Panic seemed like a distant storm, wild but unnoticed.

"There she is!" Hoots of laughter added to the jumble of sounds that couldn't seem to untangle themselves in my ears. "Oh, ain't this sweet! When I'm finished with you, Sweeny, you'll mourn the day your worthless mother gave you life!"

White-hot anger flared in me and I managed to sit up. The distorted figure at the head of the pack loomed over me. I knew I'd never be able to fend them all off but I knew I had to try. I rubbed my eyes, trying to banish the fog that seemed to have fallen over me. I had opened my mouth to respond when a grey blur appeared out of nowhere and pushed past me.

I stumbled against the tree, staring at the newcomer. He was tall, taller than Janyn, and dark grey. He wore a bright red cape and carried a wooden sword, like many bucks around my age and older did. It was a reflection of rabbit culture; there were so many warrens and wars that a future in the army seemed natural to many. King Goode was working wonders but we knew that a longer war was coming.

The buck raised his sword. "Stay back, Janyn, and leave the doe alone!"

"This got nothin' to do with ya, Longtreader! Get outta the way and we'll leave ya alone. Stay put and-" Janyn trailed off, staring past the grey buck and up the path. His eyes widened in fear. "Wolf! There's a wolf!"

Immediately, the confrontation descended into chaos. Janyn and his pack fled down the trailer, shrieking and shouting and fighting each other to get ahead, leaving me forgotten. The grey buck watched them go, laughing.

I flattened myself against the tree. "What's going on?"

The buck turned. His smile vanished. "Are you okay? Can you walk?"

"I... I don't know. But, the wolf...?" I tried to take a step on my injured foot. It gave way beneath me.

"Woah!" The buck caught me as I stumbled forward. "Be careful, miss...?"

I felt my face grow hot. "Sween. Sween Furrow."

The buck grinned. "Nice to meet you, Sween. I'm Garten Longtreader." His dark eyes scrutinized me. "You're going to have a nasty bruise and your ankle looks broken." He shook his head.

I looked around, scanning the forest for danger. "Is there really a-" A screamed clogged my throat. Peering around the corner of the tree was the grotesque snout of a wolf with teeth bared. I hid my face on Garten's shoulder.

"Whit, knock it off! You scared her!"

There was a rustle of cloth and a chuckle. "Sorry. Couldn't help it."

I slowly opened my eyes. Another buck, maybe a year or two younger than Garten, smiled sheepishly back at me. His appearance was strikingly similar to that of Garten, so I assumed they were brothers.

"Sween, meet my little brother, Whittle." Garten sounded flustered. I realized I was still clinging to his arm.

"Oh, sorry! Of course." I recoiled, swaying precariously on my feet before collapsing back into Garten's arms.

Whittle snickered.

I glared at him in return.

Garten cleared his throat, helping me to my feet. "Well, it would probably be best to get you home. Where do you live?"

My heart sank. "Fernsdale."

"Fernsdale?" Whittle exclaimed. "That's nearly ten miles from here! What are you doing so far from home?"

"I... I'm running away." I hung my head, feeling foolish admitting it, just as I felt foolish supported on Garten's shoulder. Then, defiance blazed within me. "But it isn't any of your business, is it, Whittle?" I said his name with as much contempt as I could muster.

"Fine, then," Whittle said, crossing his arms, his wolf mask still grasped in his fist, "we'll just leave you here for the real wolves!"

"Be quiet, Whittle!" Garten snapped, dark eyes flaring. "Of course we're not going to leave her!"

I felt a surge of hope. "But... You'll take me back to town?"

Garten shook his head. "Too far. We'll take you home, to our home!" He seemed proud of this resolution. "It's only a short way from here! Mum will fix you up and probably insist you stay the night... if you want to," he added, sounding unsure.

"I..."

Whittle scowled. "Of course she's coming, Garten, don't act daft! You just said we're not leaving her here!"

Garten rolled his eyes. "Be polite, Whittle, or she'll probably fight us if we try to help her."

Whittle snorted. "I doubt she has it in her."

I felt anger rise in my throat. "I don't, do I?" I struggled to rise to my full height. "I'll have you know that I've fought many bucks twice your stature and thrice your intelligence, not that either is impressive!"

Whittle blushed crimson in anger. "Yeah... Oh, yeah... I..." he spluttered, as though unable to form a complete sentence for his fury.

Garten laughed. "Poor, Whittle! Seems you've met your match for wit and sarcasm, eh?" He smiled down at me. "Let's get you home, then? Mum's sure to have supper ready and waiting."

I felt my anger drain away as I looked into Garten's kind face. "I... Thank you so much."

Garten grinned. "My pleasure, Miss Furrow. Whittle, take her other arm, will you?"

Whittle mumbled something incoherent but obeyed his brother, none too gently.

Together, we wobbled up the path, now shadowed as the sun set, toward a warm fire and steaming soup. Not even Whittle could quiet my happiness.


	2. Chapter 2 - Garten

I loved Sween Furrow. I loved her with every inch of my being. From the moment I met her, so many years ago, I knew she was the one for me. Her sweet smile and bright eyes always made my heart flutter, but it was her fighting spirit that I loved the most. But I don't understand why our story didn't have a happy ending. Where did we go astray?

I know she loved me back. There was so much understanding between us, so much chemistry! From the very beginning, it was as if we were made for each other. Both of us understood that life was bleak. We both had people in our lives who made it that way. But it felt like our friendship made every breath worthwhile, especially when times were hard.

It had been three days since we met in the forest and Sween was on the mend. Mum was so pleased to have her and Vicca too. Whittle's twin, my sister, always craved the friendship of other does her age, most likely because she lived in a household of brothers.

Those three days past without incident and full of fun. I would even go so far as to say they were the best of my life. It all ended when I found Sween crying on the porch steps.

"She doesn't want me back." Sween wiped the tears from her eyes but more flowed to replace them.

I studied the letter over her shoulder. It was short and blunt, not at all what I would have expected from a mother. The message was clear and sharp as a sword stroke.

I sighed and sat down next to Sween, not knowing what to say.

She sniffed. "I should've expected it." Her voice was hoarse. "I should've known she'd wouldn't miss me. I guess somewhere... deep inside... I thought that maybe..."

"If you ran away, she'd realize how much she loved you."

Sween looked up at me. "I want a family, Garten. A place to belong to. Is that too much to ask?"

"Of course not. In an ideal world, everyone belongs somewhere and people aren't cruel. That's just not the way life is."

Sween looked down at the tear-stained letter in her hand. "It shouldn't be that way."

I patted her hand. "Mum and Da say it won't always be like that. There's this thing... They call it the 'Mended Wood'. Soldiers like my Da think of it as a time when Natalia will be safe, every corner of it. Mum says it'll be a time of prosperity for rabbits everywhere. I think," I leaned over, lowering my voice so no one could hear but Sween, "it'll be a time when no one will be sad, ever. Families will stick together, friends will get along, and peace will reign over everyone."

Sween smiled weakly. "That sounds wonderful. I just... What do we do until then? I still have nowhere to go."

"Of course you do, dear! Don't you fret!"

We both turned to look at my Mum, who stood in the front doorway, hands on her hips.

"Mum!"

My mum clucked and glared at me. "Don't you worry, Garten, I only heard half of your conversation and a quarter of the whispering!" Her eyes twinkled. "Now come, dear, and dry your tears. Your mother will come to her senses one day and realize that she rejected a simply delightful young doe! Until then, I know of a young mother whose husband is off fighting King Goode's wars. She's just had a youngling, a feisty little buck named Emery, and needs a hand about the house. I'm sure she'd let you board if you agree to help her out."

Sween rose to her feet, leaning against the porch rail for support. "Where does she live?"

I looked at my Mum.

"Just up the road a ways, near Houndcric Road."

Vicca peered around my Mum's frilly skirt. "Why, that's perfect! Sween and I could go on being friends!" She clasped her auburn-furred hands. "That would be lovely, don't you think, Garten?"

"Lovely," I murmured, a thousand fantasies filling my mind as I stared at Sween's wide, blue eyes. Vicca giggled. I shook my head, fiercely clearing my throat. "I mean, that would be quite... convenient."

Mum rolled her eyes. "But what do you think, Sween, dear?"

Sween's eyes darted between Mum and me. "I think that would be... lovely." She smiled softly and winked at me.

Vicca shrieked in delight, retreating into the house. "Wilfred, Wilfred! Put down that dull old book and listen to this!"

Mum nodded to herself. "There, now that we've got that settled, why don't you be a gentleman, Garten, and help Sween to the supper table? We can visit Mrs. Dann and baby Emery in the morning."

I helped Sween up the stairs and into the kitchen, past Vicca, who was dancing circles around Wilfred, curled up in his favourite chair as always, and Whittle, who was sneaking a bite of Mum's pie. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I imagined my own future family in a home just like mine. Instead of Mum and Da, though, Sween and I ran the household.


	3. Chapter 3 - Sween

"King Goode dead, King Jupiter rising! Read all about it!" The small, tan buck waved the paper over his head, shouting the headlines for all in the busy square to hear. He had no notion of pain this news brought to everyone's hearts. King Goode had reigned for all of my youth and the people of the United Warrens loved him. Now, he was gone, his young son left in his place. No one knew what was to become of the not yet steady warren alliance.

I sighed and moved on as the buck continued to call out his wares. The basket on my arm grew no lighter as I waded through the afternoon crowd. It was only when I reached the long, winding path toward Mrs. Dann's farmhouse that my loads lightened.

The path was my favourite in all of Natalia, though I had little to compare it to. The white gravel stretched in front of me for miles, bright green forest on my left and rolling hills to my right. It was this path and the friends that were family to me that made my life happy.

I turned off and up the path to Mrs. Dann's, humming as I swung the basket of food I'd been sent to fetch. Little Emery, now hardly an infant, ran out to meet me and accompany the food safely into the house.

"Did you get the yams?" Mrs. Dann called from the kitchen as I placed the basket on the dining table.

"Yes, Mrs. Dann!" I scooped up the sack of yams and carried them into the kitchen.

Mrs. Dann was leaning over a blazing fireplace, stirring a pot of stew and wiping her brow. "Oh, your a lifesaver, Sween! Please, chop those up for me?"

I scattered the yams onto the kitchen table and picked up a knife, enjoying the savoury scent of the stew as it wafted from the pot. "What's the stew for, Mrs. Dann? It smells amazing!"

Mrs. Dann looked up, her brows raised. "Don't you know? The Longtreaders are hosting a village-wide potluck in honour of the last days of winter! I'm sure I meant to tell you but, oh, I would forget." She shook her head. "What with my Theodore dead in battle and the bills piling up, I feel as though I've aged seventy years since you've come, instead of four!"

Sween, who could barely contain her happiness at the notion of a night with the Longtreaders, managed a solemn expression. "Things will improve, Mrs. Dann. There will be a mending of all the brokenness. I'm sure of it."

Mrs. Dann settled onto a chair, a small smile on her face. "You're a wise and hopeful doe, Sween, especially when I need those things the most!"

I shrugged. "I consider myself a simple rabbit, contemptuous of evil and the world's broken ways." I went on slicing the yams, thinking hard. Finally, I looked up again. "I can't take all the credit, though. A friend of mine taught me nearly all I know about a 'mending'. He's the wise one."

Mrs. Dann's smile turned to a grin, then a chuckle. "Garten's a good buck. You'll make a fine couple, just like me and Theo."

I dropped the knife, piercing my finger. "Mrs. Dann!"

Mrs. Dann got to her feet and attended the stew once more. "I just call it like I see it, Sween. There's no denying you'll end up with one of them Longtreaders, and anyone'll admit that Garten's the best of the three." She swept past, winking at Sween. "I'd go for him if I were you."

Sween wiped her cut on her apron. "Now, don't you go spreading rumours about Garten and me, Mrs. Dann. I promise you, there's nothing between us. Nothing at all. In the least bit."

Mrs. Dann raised an eyebrow.

"Mrs. Dann!"

"Alright, alright, keep your ears on! Mum's the word, as they say." She shook her head, muttering under her breath.

We continued working in silence until Mrs. Dann glanced at the clock and let out a shriek. I dropped the knife again, cutting my other finger.

"What is it?" I asked, wincing as I grabbed a rag to wrap the cut.

Mrs. Dann grabbed my shoulders and began shoving me from the kitchen. "I told Natrynn Longtreader I'd send you their way at half-past. It's nearly 4:00!"

"But Mrs. Dann, what about the yams?"

She shoved my coat into my arms. "I'll finish up the stew and join you in an hour or two. Just get over there and have fun with-"

I frowned. "Mrs. Dann..."

"The Longtreaders."

I relaxed. "Good. Thank you!"

"Oh, and say hello to Garten for me," she called over her shoulder as she hurried off into the kitchen.

I sighed, shaking my head, and pulled on my coat, stifling my smile until I was rushing up the road toward the Longtreaders's.


	4. Chapter 4 - Whittle (Part 1)

Did I love Sween from the beginning? The sure answer would be no. Perhaps, somewhere deep in the back of my mind, my true feelings lingered. But I was a moody, selfish buck in my coming-of-age years, quite taken to how I felt, not how others felt.

But I did feel something toward Sween from the beginning, something I'm ashamed of to this day. Envy. My brother Garten was my hero, the one I to whom I was a most loyal companion. Sween was never to love him as much as he loved her and that was clear in mind. But still, he went after her so, leaving barely any time for me. That was why I envied Sween.

It was only on the night of the feast that love first arose.

* * *

We all saw Sween coming. Wilfred had got a new telescope, which I thought was boring before I realized its true potential. Vicca and I, for we were always thick as thieves, managed to convince him to let us use it.

We all huddled around the scope in Wilfred's attic bedroom. Our home was perched on the edge of a plain of rolling hills. From his window, we could see for miles around.

We took turns watching Mrs. Dann's front step, waiting to see Sween start up the road toward our house. We waited and watched for nearly an hour before she finally appeared, smiling as she hurried toward us.

Vicca smirked at me. "I'll bet you a penny she'll arrive in the next ten minutes." She swept from the room, flying down the stairs as fast as she could in her long, white gown. Her rich auburn fur nearly matched the colour of the wood around her.

I took one last look through the telescope. "She'll never make it that fast," I said, hurrying after Vicca, "and I'll bet you that!"

I skipped the last three stairs and hit the ground in a roll that took me past the couches in the living room. The vaulted ceilings echoed with laughter as I skidded to a halt, standing firmly on my feet in front of Wilfred.

"Impressive," Wilfred said, without looking up, "but if you were doing it on rocky ground, and with a sword, it would be more of a twist than a roll. Also, you stepped on my toe."

Garten glanced up. He was poised behind a canvas in the corner, holding a paintbrush between his teeth. "Why the hurry?" he asked, snatching the brush from his mouth and letting it loose on the canvas. "Vicca just rushed out the door too. That can't be a coincidence."

"And it certainly isn't a good sign," Wilfred muttered, flipping his page.

I ran toward the front door, slipping and sliding on the carpet, calling over my shoulder, "Sween's coming up the road!"

"Really? Wait for me!" I heard Garten shout after me, followed by the clatter of paints and brushes being whisked away.

I ran after Vicca, fiddling with the pocket watch in my trousers, finally fishing it out. "It can't have been much shorter than five minutes since she left," I said to myself, my eyes darting between the watch and where I was running. "I'll have this one for sure!"

Vicca stood in the middle of the lane, waving to Sween in the distance. She was fast becoming more than a dot on the horizon.

"Hurry, Sween!" Vicca called, winking at me. "She's making good time."

"That doesn't mean anything. And no cheering her on!"

Vicca laughed the ringing laugh, like a peal of bells, that had caught the ear of every buck in Houncric Hill. Between it and her bright, violet eyes, I was amazed I hadn't had to chase off more suitors than just four in the last month. "Come on, Sween! You can do it!"

I peered through the late afternoon glare. Sween was closer than ever. "Don't come on, Sween!" I shouted.

Vicca elbowed me.

The final stretch was upon us. My hand was slick against the cool metal of the watch as Sween made her way toward us. Finally, she was leaning over in front of Vicca, panting. The time was nine minutes.

"Good job, Sween! You made it!" Vicca said, helping her straighten up. The two embraced.

"Was... it... a... race?" Sween panted, glancing at my glum expression.

"No," Vicca said, holding out her hand, "just a bet."

I groaned and slapped my penny into her palm. "Next time don't move so quickly!"

Sween smirked. "I didn't know I was coming until a few minutes-"

"Nine minutes!" Vicca supplied.

"Fine, until nine minutes ago." Sween laughed. "Glad hearts ride on fast feet, I suppose!"

"Glad hearts, my toe," I mumbled, stalking toward the house.

The does laughed.

Garten ran into me halfway up the walk. "What did I miss?" he asked, peering over me at the girls, who were taking their time, chatting.

I scowled at him, shoving past. "Nothing. Go see your bride!"

Garten frowned. "Whittle, be quiet! She'll hear you!" He wrung his hands anxiously.

"Fine," I spat, feeling bitterness well up inside of me, "I'll just leave all of you alone then. I'm perfectly fine by myself!"

"You do that," he said, craning his neck to watch the does' progress. "Da wants you at the fireside, anyway."

I didn't answer him. I stormed up toward the house, hearing the glad greetings behind me as Garten met Sween and Vicca, digging at my eyes to stop the tears. Not for anything would I cry. Not until I was safely hidden away, alone, where no one could see it.


	5. Chapter 5 - Whittle (Part 2)

Sween, Vicca, Wilfred, Garten and I all sat around the roaring fire, shoulder to shoulder with friends and neighbours. Sparks twinkled with the stars in the night sky as they rose on wings of ash, clearing the treetops of the forest around us. Our bellies filled and minds awake as ever, we'd gathered around the fire to spin tales and sing songs, the best part of the night.

I sat next to my Da, watching Farmer Folds stumble around the fire, teetering on his heels with excitement as he related for the fifth year in a row his tumultuous, almost legendary, tussle with a bear when he was a young buck.

Hardly anyone but my Da was paying attention. Most were just gasping and flinching every time the elderly buck tottered on his feet, swaying close to the fire. Folds took this as a response to his story and continued to trip about in an avid frenzy.

Wilfred was sneaking glances at the book he kept hidden in his jacket while Sween, Vicca, and Garten whispered with each other, sometimes breaking out into stifled laughter and getting looks of disapproval from Mrs. Dann and Mum.

Finally, I heard Garten whisper, "We could tell this story better than old Folds himself, having heard it so much! What do you say we sneak off and have our own bonfire?"

Sween glanced at Vicca. "You want to go?"

Vicca looked between Sween and Garten, and I saw the tell-tale twitches of a frown on her face. "No. You two go ahead. I forgot how the story ends, anyway," she whispered back, staring straight at me, begging me not to interfere,

I rolled my eyes. I knew that she could recite Farmer Folds' tale in her sleep. I'd even heard her do it once. I didn't have a clue about why she wanted to stay.

Sween looked past Garten at Wilfred. "Do you want to come, Wilfy?"

Wilfred didn't answer. He just flipped the page.

Vicca choked on a giggle. "That's a definite no."

"C'mon, Sween! I want to show you something!"

Sween shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "Fine. I'll come." I saw her share a smile with Vicca. What was that about?

Garten and Sween slipped off into the forest together, snickering into their cloaks as they disappeared into the darkness. I watched them go out of the corner of my, hating Garten for not even thinking to invite me.

I turned my back on them and stared bitterly into the fire, the heat of the flames against my face matching that of the anger in my heart. Anger and envy.

But, for the first time, I felt something else there. It wasn't only my deep-seated envy against Sween for stealing my hero away from me. It was anger toward a Garten for an unknown offence, like he had crossed into territory I had just claimed, without either of us knowing it.

Just when the hot-headed, confused thoughts whirling in my head reached their boiling point, Da finally noticed the absence of Garten and Sween.

"Whittle?"

I fought to keep my voice even. "Yes, Da?"

"Please get yar brother and Sween, will ya? Hezekee Folds is nar finished his story and Mum 'as 'un to tell next. I wan' them ta 'ear it!"

I clenched my fists. "Yes, Da."

I slipped from my seat on the bench, feeling Vicca's eyes on me as I followed Garten's tracks into the forest, the bright light of the full moon shining down on me like a white sun.

I followed them at a run, dodging through the thin grove, muttering my angry thoughts under my breath. It wasn't long before I found them, both perched in the Covenant Tree in Ansel's Hollow. If I hadn't had the spark of good sense in me that I did, I would've screamed at Garten then and there.

Instead, I plunged into the brush a few feet away before they could see me. I sat there, scratched and wounded in more ways than one, listening and taking deep, heaving breaths.

"This is a beautiful tree, Garten," I heard Sween saying. "Why haven't we come here before? It'd make a great haunt!"

I heard Garten clear his throat nervously. "It's called the Covenant Tree. You see, a long time ago, there was this doe named Ansel. They say that Ansel was the prettiest doe who ever lived in Natalia - I think that's rubbish, by the way - and everyone loved her, especially all the village bucks."

Sween laughed. "Sounds like Vicca."

They shared a laugh.

"Anyway," Garten continued, voice growing in strength, "she only ever loved one rabbit her entire life, a buck by the name of Grym. They were married beneath this tree and lived out the rest of their lives together. You can see their names carved down there in the center of the trunk."

I peeked through the leaves, trying to distinguish the markings. I'd long wondered why they were there.

"Oh, that's sweet," said Sween, and I lay low again.

"Yeah. Since then, most of the weddings in Houncric happen under this tree and happy couples carve their names into the bark."

"Oh. That's sweet." Sween sounded a little more uncomfortable now. "So, is this what you wanted to show me?"

"No," there was a scuffling sound as Garten stood up on the tree branch and reached into the leafy heights, "this is."

"Oh, Garten! It's beautiful! Is that me?"

I closed my eyes, grass and leaves tickling my ears as I lay, stalk still, in the undergrown, picturing the canvas Garten must have given her.

"Yeah. I painted it this afternoon. Do you like it?" He sounded so anxious, I almost felt sorry for him.

"I do!" Sween said. "It's wonderful!"

I got up the courage to sneak another look at the two. Garten was spread out on a long, sloping limb, while Sween sat in a little hollow in the trunk. Garten seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her. Instead, he stared at the stars.

"One day," he said, wistfully, "I want to be worthy of carving my name into this tree with..."

"With who?" Sween asked, her voice unnaturally quiet and tense.

The following silence was long and almost unbearable for all who heard, or rather didn't hear, it.

Then, the answer came. "You."

I sat up, staring at the two. If my face hadn't been hidden in the shadows, they would've seen me for sure. Garten was stubbornly refusing to look in Sween's direction, his face contorted with worry. Sween was scratching at the wood with a stone, looking embarrassed.

"Garten?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, Sween?"

But what she would've said, no one will ever know, not even I. Da's voice echoed in the forest like thunder.

"Garten! Sween! Come 'ere, if ya please!"

Sween and Garten finally exchanged a look.

"We'd better get going," Sween said, sliding down from the hollow.

Garten followed, saying nothing.

I laid low, breathing as much as I dared, as they passed, saying nothing to each other. The night air felt as though it were chilled with anxiety, the foremost feeling in all of our hearts.

It was not until they were safely away that I stood, a lone figure in the shadows. The moon seemed to smile upon me and I realized that I no longer felt angry or envious, just numb, as if I'd made too many discoveries about myself and my world to process.

I stumbled, dazed, toward the Covenant Tree, staring up at all the names of those couples that were happily married. I thought about Sween and Garten, wondering if I'd one day see their names written there, next to that of Ansel and Grym.

I wondered if I'd ever carve my name there.

I climbed the tree. If my Da was calling me, I didn't hear him; it was if no sound could penetrate my ears.

Soon, I was settled into the same hollow that Sween had occupied. The wood was still warm from her presence, though I didn't notice it. I felt warmed to the bone by what I saw.

There, carved into the wood beside me, was Sween's name, all along but for the word 'and'. The rest was smooth and blank, full of possibilities. The same went for my mind.

Slowly, as though in a trance, I picked up the stone Sween had left in the hollow. I pressed the stone into the wood and, before I could change my mind, carved my name next to hers.

When I dropped the stone and saw the two names written there, sheltered from sun and rain, hidden away where no one could see them, all my emotions flooded back. I heard Da calling my name.

But, most importantly, I knew that I loved Sween Furrow.


	6. Chapter 6 - Sween

Vicca slammed the paper down in front of me, tears glistening on her cheeks. I'd never seen her so upset.

"What is it, Vic?"

"Read it." Her voice was heavy with sorrow. "You'll see."

I pulled the paper toward me and scanned the headline. "'King Jupiter calls bucks to battle'?" I looked up at Vicca, my brows creased.

She wiped her eyes. "Look at the list of enrolled soldiers!"

I perused the long table of unfamiliar names until two of them caught my eye. "Garten and Wilfred Longtreader?" I stared at the names until they blurred on the page. I shook my head. "No. No, that can't be!" I tried to hide the waver in my voice.

Vicca made no such attempt. She sat down next to me and sobbed. "Sween, I'm scared! Garten and Wilfred... They may be obnoxious sometimes, but... but..." She hugged herself. "What if they... what if they don't come home?"

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. "Wait... they're gone?" I looked down at the tear-stained article. My eyes found the date of departure. "No... How could they just leave like that, with no warning?"

"Mum and Da knew it was coming, but I... I couldn't stand to say goodbye, Sween! I just couldn't!"

"Vic, where are they?"

Vicca's violet eyes were wide and full of pain. "Leaving for First Warren at this very moment."

I leapt to my feet, letting the paper float to the floor. "I have to say goodbye!" I clenched my fists, trying not to let my shock and horror show. "Who knows how long they'll be gone!"

Vicca cried harder.

I glanced at her, my heart breaking. "I'm sorry, Vic, but I have to go! Stay here. I'll come back!"

I sped out of Mrs. Dann's front door, swiping furiously at my eyes. A sinking feeling churned my stomach as I thought of Wilfred and Garten, marching off to war. My feet hit the ground in rapid rhythm, worry pushing me on, stirring the dust in my wake. The thick, grey clouds wept bitterly as I ran, each drop piercing the misty air.

"Glad hearts ride on fast feet," I murmured, trying to peer through the early morning haze, "but fear's a swifter spur."

My lungs burned as I ran the final stretch, making out the shape of Mr. and Mrs. Longtreader through the fog. The cold wind bit like a whip at my ears and sizzled like fire in my throat, but I urged myself on, seeing the lone figure I'd come to bid farewell.

"Garten!"

"Sween?" I flew into his arms and he caught me up in a hug.

I cried into his shoulder. The stiffness of his uniform felt unnatural against my face but his peppery scent already lingered in the fabric.

"Sween, Sween, it's okay!" he whispered in my ear, patting me awkwardly on the back.

I let go, looking him over through tears. He seemed so much older than the buck who'd sat with me in the Covenant Tree three months ago. His eyes were full of concern.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to hear from Vicca?"

"I thought... it would be easier this way," he said, looking at his feet and fidgeting with his sword hilt. "I have to go, Sween." He looked up and into my eyes. "King Jupiter needs me. He... he has the same dream, of the Mended Wood, but he says we have to fight for it!" Garten looked past me, at some imaginary sky. "I met him, Sween, just the other day. I'm going to follow him, even if that means into war."

I let out a trembling breath before another wave of sadness pierced my heart. "But, what if you don't come back?"

"If I don't come back... You could sing a farewell to the wind for me, Sween. Maybe it'll reach my ears, wherever I lie. I would know your voice anywhere."

I nodded, drying my eyes on my sleeve. "I will. I promise."

"Please, don't. _I_ will come back for you, Sween. _I_ promise! And one day, we'll stand beneath the Covenant Tree in Ansel's Hollow and carve our names together." He added the last with a hopeful tilt of his head. I saw in his face the same look of determination he'd had when facing off with Janyn all those years ago.

I blushed. "I... I... You would have to get me a ring first," I whispered in his ear, giving him a final squeeze, "and give it to me yourself. When you come back."

Garten smiled and returned the embrace. "When I come back." He kissed my forehead, then pulled away. "Farewell, Miss Furrow. Until I return!"

He backed away, holding my gaze with his, clutching the strap of the pack on his shoulder. He and Wilfred saluted, shouting as one, "My place beside you, my blood for yours!" Then, they turned and began to walk off, each solemn stride taking them farther from my grasp.

I felt more tears run stream down my face as I watched Garten go. The rain poured ever harder, but I hardly felt the chill. I was already cold with loneliness.

Then, as tips of Garten's ears disappeared over the rise, I felt a presence next to me.

"He knows what he's doing, Sween. He'll come back."

I turned sharply. Whittle stood beside me, staring at the horizon, toward First Warren. He gripped a wooden sword in his hand.

"What?"

Whittle looked at me, a soft expression on his face that I'd never seen there before. "Garten'll come back a hero, with a thousand wolves' tails to prove it. Even Wilfred, if he can keep his nose out of a book long enough to raise his sword, will do great things under King Jupiter." His voice was quiet and soothing, not sarcastic or sharp like I was used to hearing.

I stared at him, my brows creased.

He stared back, dark golden eyes earnest. Then, he shivered. "I've got to get back to training. See you later, Sween." He turned and walked off, shoulders limp but strides full and confident.

I watched him go until he disappeared into the forest, not realizing I was standing alone on the windy hill-top, not knowing where to go.


	7. Chapter 7 - Whittle

I left Sween standing at the crossroads, gripping the wooden sword in a sweaty hand. I hated not being able to fight. I hated that my brothers were going off in honour without me. But I wasn't the old, brooding Whittle any more. Those days were in the past and I saw only hopeful prospects ahead. I would miss Garten and Wilfred, but I still had Mum and Da. And Vicca.

And Sween.

It was only Sween that I thought of as I trudged off toward the forest, where my training equipment was ready.

Branches whipped at my arms as I fought my way through the brush. I could've taken the path, but I didn't want to. The path wound past Ansel's Hollow and that place was on my mind far too much already.

When I finally broke through into the wide, rectangular field that stretched to the treeline nearly a mile west. I'd spent countless hours here as a child, playing in the tall grass with my siblings. But now, I used it for another reason, to train and learn.

A wooden wolf stood alone, its pumpkin head carved with a menacing scowl. I stared at it for a long time, contemplating my thoughts and feelings, before lashing out and crushing the shell of the pumpkin with my sword.

I spun, hitting it again, and the two halves fell to the ground. I stepped back, breathing hard, and examining my work. The strike was good, I decided. Perfect if it had been a real sword.

"That was the sorriest excuse for a slice that I ever saw!"

I turned, scanning the treeline for the source of the mockery. My eyes lit upon a black form melting out of the dark forest. A black rabbit, green eyes bright with life and scorn, stalked toward me, hands deep in his coat pocket.

"Who are you?" I asked, pivoting the sword on him.

He kept moving forward, wrenching the sword from my hand and pushing me back. "Don't tempt me, or you'll end up a pile of fur in the dust." The rabbit scowled at the wooden sword and tossed it aside. "The name's Helmer, Helmer the Black."

Helmer drew his sword and I stumbled back, groping around on the ground for a rock or stick.

Helmer nodded. "I'd take that rock over there if I were you. The jagged one. Everything can be used to defend, everything is your armour." His lit up, and a smirk spread across his face. "Everything is a weapon."

He turned away from me and examined the wooden wolf and the pumpkin. "Good set up." He peered at me out of the corner of his eye. "The pumpkin's a nice touch."

"Y-yeah," I mumbled. "I thought it would help with my-"

"Training? You need more than training, buck, if you're ever going to amount to anything. No, for that you'd need surgery. And a better sword." Helmer crossed his arms. "Now, spill it."

"Spill what?"

"Who's the doe? I can tell when a buck's got it bad in the heart. Most soldiers with a doe in mind are the sloppiest you'll ever see. Others, well," Helmer kicked the severed pumpkin, "they fight like dying isn't an option. Which one are you?"

Whittle hung his head. "Probably the first."

"Of course you are," Helmer barked, slapping the top of Whittle's head. Whittle rubbed his ears. "But that's not what you'll always be, not if you 'fess up to her and move on with it."

Whittle shuddered. "I don't think I'm that brave."

"A soldier who isn't brave in the safety of his own warren isn't a soldier at all. You have to face yourself before you'll ever face a wolf or bird of prey. Sometimes, you won't know which is the more formidable enemy." Helmer crossed his arms. "And I promise, buck, that you will never get into my army until you-"

Whittle looked up. "Your army? Who are you?"

Helmer rolled his eyes. "Helmer, Helmer the Black, Lord Captain of King Jupiter's army. Your brother," he poked Whittle in the chest, "is one of my lieutenants."

Whittle blinked. "He just left today. How can he be a lieutenant already?"

"Well, when you have a small army those who sign up first get special perks, such as food, water, and/or high positions," Helmer smirked at Whittle's half confused, half anxious expression, "all of which your brothers qualify for. Maybe you too, one day, if you promise me this..."

"What?"

Helmer spun his sword around and handed it to Whittle by the hilt. "Promise me you'll tell her. Swear it on your honour!"

Whittle looked from the blade to Helmer's solemn expression. He took the hilt, swinging the sword in an arc at the wooden wolf. It fell to the ground with two thuds. "I swear it, Lord Captain Helmer. I swear it on my honour!"

Helmer patted my shoulder. "You'll be a soldier, yet, my buck!"

With that, he turned and disappeared into the forest, black fur blending in with the shadows. I gripped the sword hilt, feeling the blade vibrating from its last strike.

I knew what I had to do.


	8. Chapter 8 - Garten

I spit out the gag. "Why am I here?"

I tried to peer around through the gaps in the woven bag over my head. The night air was sharp against my bare fur and the moon shone down in cold distance. I was in the middle of a clearing, tied to a thick post by layers of rope. Wolf vigils guarded the gaps between the trees.

"You're in my camp, young hero." It was a cold, low voice but not raspy like other wolves'.

The bag was pulled off my head and the scene I had studied through it came into sharp focus. A wolf stood before me, tall and white as snow. A dark crown glared silver on his head in the moonlight.

"I am King Garlacks," the wolf said. "You are my prisoner. With time, you could also be my friend."

I scowled at him, spitting at his feet. "I would never betray King Jupiter. You and yours will die for the innocent blood you've shed!"

Garlacks nodded at a guard, who strode forward and drove his fist into my shoulder.

"I do not take kindly to disrespect, rabbit," he spat. "Be careful what you say. This could be a delicious opportunity!"

"For whom?"

The wolf king's eyes glittered. "It depends."

I shuddered. "On what?"

"Whether or not you'll hear me out."

I did my best to think carefully and calmly. The cords around my chest made talking hard and breathing harder. I needed some time. I needed a rescue. "Fine. What is your offer?"

The wolf king leered at me and began pacing. "We've seen your work in battle, youngling. You're no fool with a sword."

I gave him a cold grin. "Or a bow. Or a dagger. Or a spear. I mean, I could go on..." I stopped talking when the butt of a sword met my chest. I gasped for breath.

"My point," said Garlacks through gritted teeth, his patience clearing waning, "is that you're a dangerous enemy, and a valuable ally. King Jupiter is a young, weak king. Natalia will not prosper under his reign, it will only fall to decay. But there is another king rising, a king who will pardon Rabbitkind's defiance and usher in an age of peace."

I tilted my head. "Who is this King?"

"His name is Morbin Blackhawk."

Every wolf in the clearing bowed their head at the name. I shivered, but not from the cold.

"I've never heard of your King. He must be pretty weak." A fist met my jaw. "Right now, I mean," I added. I frowned at the wolf vigil beside me, who was rearing back for another strike. "No need to be so hasty! What's your offer?"

A shadow crossed the moon overhead. "My offer is this, Longtreader!" It was a low, menacing voice, so cold and cruel I doubted I'd hear a heartbeat beneath any chest connected to it.

A screech like a thousand dying pipes on a battlefield rent the night air, making me cower against the post to which I was bound. A great hawk, black as night, the tips of his feathers glinting silver in the moonlight, swept over the clearing and lighted in front of me, his great, black eyes stabbing into mine.

"You will go back to your little camp," Morbin Blackhawk said, creeping closer to me with every step of his talons, "and you will work alongside King Jupiter, and you will tell me everything you hear. When the time is right, you will set him up for his downfall and return to my side, where you will live a long and prosperous life." His beak was inches from my face.

I could barely manage a whisper of defiance. "And if I don't?"

Morbin screeched in my ear, raising a talon and ripping through my bonds and my tunic. A long, bloody slash was left on my chest. "You will remember this scar, scum, and you will do my bidding."

He gave a final screech that shook every hollow in the Great Wood and took off, his sharp wingspan a silhouette against the moon.

I crumpled at the base of the post, twitch and shivering with a terror I had never known before. I could feel the warmth of blood soaking my fur.

Garlacks brought his face very close to mine. I could smell his foul breath on my face. "What is your answer, Longtreader?"

I could hear now the calls and shouted orders of my army. Torches flickered between the trees. "I... I don't know." _How could I ever stand against him?_

Garlacks' snout was set in a sneer. "Your indecision will cost you dearly, rabbit. Sholne!"

A black wolf left his vigil nearby. "Sir?"

"You know who to find. Kill any of them."

I struggled to sit up, staring in horror after the Sholne as he rushed into the forest. "Where's he going? Tell me!"

Garlacks signalled his wolves, all of whom began to retreat into the forest. "We will not take no for an answer, Longtreader. Go to the Traitor's Fount in two weeks' time. By then you will have an answer."

And then, they were gone. I slumped back against the post, breathing hard and clutching my wounded chest, as my fellow soldiers charged into the clearing.

I knew I couldn't win.


	9. Chapter 9 - Sween

Vicca's long, autumn gown swept the leaves on the path. Her auburn finger clutched a long, golden quill, her ears twitching as the made careful, elegant letters on the paper.

I tried to look over her shoulder, but she turned away so I couldn't see.

I frowned. "Why did you invite me along if you don't want my help!"

"I wanted to talk," Vicca said, sticking out her chin.

"About what?" I darted another glance at the letter. I managed to make out my name on the parchment before Vicca pushed me away. "Obviously not about the letter! Are you writing about me?"

"No."

"Vicca," I said, shaking my head, "you're an awful liar."

"I am, am I? And what makes you such an expert?" She continued to write as she walked, casting me appraising looks every once in a while.

"I was on the run for two weeks before I found a home here. I know a thing or two." I sighed. "But enough about that. What did you want to talk about?"

A shy smile spread over Vicca's face. "Do you... do you think Branton Mire's sweet on Beci Winstruck?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not, Vicca, it's obvious he's taken a liking to you."

Vicca shrugged. "I didn't think it was that obvious," she said, giving me a sweet smile.

I choked on a laugh. "Another bad lie. Vicca, what are you up to?"

"Just answer my questions! What about Roben Grimes?"

I nearly giggled at the thought of him and his youngling mannerisms when Vicca walked by. "There's no way he doesn't like you, Vicca." I sighed. "Every buck in Houndcric's sweet on you, Vicca, and every doe knows it."

Vicca looked away, though I could tell she was embarrassed. "It's not much different for you, Sween. I know of at least two bucks on your tail!"

I grimaced. "Who?"

"Well, Garten, for one."

My grimace deepened to a frown. I didn't answer.

"And Whittle."

I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth to object, then closed it again. I knew she was right. "Garten and Whittle," I mumbled. "Seems like I'll end up with the name Longtreader no matter which way I turn."

"Do you like Whittle?" Vicca's questions sounded innocent enough, but I could tell she was holding her breath in waiting for the answer.

I thought back over the last few months. It felt like, whenever my mind stumbled upon an instance where I loved and missed Garten deeply, Whittle was always at my side, comforting me. His gentle tone of voice and protective presence touched me more than Garten's extravagant dreams and proud appearance.

I said as much to Vicca.

Her quill scrambled furiously over the page as I talked and I knew I'd reached the heart of this conversation. Suddenly, I didn't mind. I could talk about Whittle for as long as she needed.

When I stopped, Vicca signed the letter and sealed it.

"Where are we going?" I asked, reaching a fork in the path.

Vicca brushed past me. "I'm going left," she said, motioning to the left fork. "Mum needs some vegetables from Farmer Folds. You're going over there," she motioned to a break in the trees, through which I could see Whittle training in the open field, "to give Whittle this letter."

She handed me the freshly sealed letter she had just written. I gave her an uncertain frown, but tucked it into my pocket and started for the break in the trees.

Vicca put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. Her dark, green eyes bored into mine. "Promise me this, Sween. When you find your future partner, don't forget about me. Don't ever forget."

I inclined my head, looking into her face. A stir in the brush behind her made me blink. "Vicca..."

"Yes?"

"Vicca, move!"

I dove into her, and we both tumbled down the trail a few feet.

"Sween? Sween what's..." She sat up, rubbing her head.

"Wolf!" I screamed, waving my hands to get Whittle's attention. "Whittle help! There's a wolf!"

A growling voice cut me off. "Do you think I like being called 'wolf'? Would you like being called 'rabbit' or 'food'? Both fit you."

A black, tawny form crept from the trees, its eyes wild with hunger. A wolf, nearly twice my height, stalked forward, sword in hand.

My eyes darted between it and the breaks in the trees to my right. Whittle was still hacking furiously at his wooden wolf.

"No, you're right, sir," I said, backing away slowly as the wolf crept forward. "I'm Sween. This is Vicca. Who are you?"

"The name's Rolde. I'm a servant of King Garlacks, a commander in his army. Do you know why I'm here?"

"I can't say I do, sir." I tried to keep my voice steady.

"I've been ordered by my King to travel to a place called Houndcric Hill and find the Longtreader family. I'm to find them, and do my worst." He bared his teeth.

I stopped backing up. "You'll do no such thing," I screamed at him. "Whittle, help!" I picked up a stone and hurled it through the trees. It landed several yards away from him, making a thud in the grass. He looked up.

He met my eyes, then started running.

Rolde snarled ferociously. "Don't think he'll save you, rabbit scum, you'll be-"

"I thought we were on a first-name basis, you ugly lump!" Vicca shouted, pushed past me and driving a stick into the wolf's face.

The wolf let out a shriek of pain and stumbled backward, clutching its face. When it looked back, a long gash trailed through his eye across his face.

"You dare!" he snarled, his voice high-pitched from pain. "You will pay for that, rabbit scum, for my name is Rolde, Rolde Garlackson!"

Vicca smirked, examining her work. "Since we're not using names here, how about I call you Red-eye, Red-eye? Red-eye Garlackson." Her voice trembled with rage.

"You won't live to say that name again!" Red-eye pounced, tackling Vicca to the ground and rolling away into the brush.

"Vicca!"


	10. Chapter 10 - Whittle

The fight was a blur of stabs and slashes. I could see hardly anything through my anger and instinct, and I felt no pain, even when his teeth met my fur. It felt as though it ended as quickly as it began. The wolf, coward that it was, fled into the forest. But he'd left his damage.

Vicca was dead. I knew it even before I stooped to check for a pulse. Her innocent face, the one I'd grown used to seeing so beautiful and troublesome with the village bucks, was marred with cruel gashes. Her body was limp. I clutched her and sobbed.

"Whittle." I felt an arm around my shoulder as Sween dropped to her knees at my side.

I turned to her, letting my tears flow freely just as I knew hers were. "What if I'd come sooner?" I whispered, holding Vicca tighter.

Sween looked down. "Whittle, your arm is bleeding."

"What if I hadn't hesitated? What if I'd heard you the first time?"

I saw her eyes fill with pain. "Please, Whittle. Not now. We have to go! We have to tell..." She broke down in sobs.

I closed my eyes and fell the pain and sorrow expand in my chest. My head spun and my arm was sickeningly wet and sticky. So dizzy... Vicca...

"Whittle!" I heard a hoarse scream in the distance. "Whittle, listen to me! No, no, no, no..."

Everything went dark.

Voices and blurry shapes moved around me, growing louder and quiet in surges. My dreams were hot and feverish, filled with memories of Vicca. Playing at Farmer Folds'. Fishing in the little brook. Playing in the forest. Every memory made the knife in my heart dig a little deeper.

Finally, I managed to hold onto a voice, letting it pull me back into reality. It was Sween's.

"Whittle?" She sounded hollow. As her face came into view through my half-shut lids, I realized that she looked worse. "I don't know if you can hear me... You've been sleeping for days. The infection in your arm was bad, but the fever broke. Doc thinks you'll be okay..." I heard a sniff and let myself stir. She paused, but didn't stop speaking. "Before... before... Well, just before, Vicca gave me this. It... it's a letter. She told me to give it to you. I don't what it says; I didn't read it. But, maybe when you wake up..." She sniffed again. "I'll just leave it here." I heard her shuffle to my nightstand and place something there, near my ear.

She started to leave but I let my eyes flutter open. "Sween?"

She turned, her black dress swishing on the floor as she faced me. Her face became less tight. "You're awake." Her voice trembled slightly, and she smiled through tears.

My smile was more of a grimace. I coughed. "Water?"

She crossed to my side at once, filling a cup from the pitcher on a nearby table. As I drank, she settled into the chair at my bedside, her eyes shut tight. "I thought I was going to lose you too, Whittle. Like I lost Garten... Like I lost her..." She groped for the hand of my injured arm, which lay limp on the bed. The fur on my neck raised as she held it. "I was so afraid."

I set the cup on the nightstand, my hand pausing by the letter. Vicca's loopy handwriting had etched my name on the front and my heart broke to look at it.

"Take the letter, Whittle." Sween opened her eyes.

"Sween, I... It's too soon." My voice was so weak, though I tried to sound strong. I started to draw my hand back.

"No, Whit," she whispered, her eyes locking on mine. "I promised her. Please."

My heart beat quicker as I looked into her face, so tired and worn. I took a deep breath, then nodded. My fingers closed around the cold, smooth parchment.

I brought it to my chest and began to unfold it, which was a slow process with one hand. Finally, I held it by the edge of the parchment, fingering the folds Vicca had made in the last minutes of her life. My eyes roved the page.

_Whittle,_

_I'm walking here with Sween now. She doesn't know what I'm writing about and not for anything will I'll tell her. You see, it's time, I think, to test the waters. She might not say it aloud but she's searching for an honest answer, someone to tell her the truth. I think that it is time, my dear brother, to tell her how you feel. _

My eyes widened and I glanced in Sween's direction. She still watched me, her eyes watery and sad. She gripped my hand as though it were her lifeline, which made the sinking in my stomach no better.

_ It's going to be difficult and it's no doubt that it may be the hardest war you'll ever fight. But the feelings are there, Whittle. If you're honest with her, you'll set yourself apart. I'm going to send her with this letter. Whenever it gets to you, I want you to take her hand, look her in the eye, and tell her how you feel about her. And I'll know if you don't, so you'll pay for any cowardice, you got it?_

_ Love,_

_ Vicca_

I tried to smile as I put the letter aside, but my stomach churned anxiously, and the aching in my heart as I imagined Vicca's name upon on the parchment, her final well-wishing. But I forced myself to look at Sween, watching as her eyes followed the letter, then wandered back to my face.

"What did it say?" she asked, after a minute.

"It..." My thoughts moved in panicked succession. "It told me that I should... should... tell you something," I managed, trying hard to keep my voice from cracking.

Sween's brows knit. "Tell me what?"

I swallowed. "Nothing in particular." My lie was weak, even to my own ears.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression growing dangerous. "You cannot almost die on me and then lie to my face. Give it me." She leaned forward, skirting my attempts to keep it from her hand, and snatched the letter.

"Wait, Sween, let's talk about this!" I tried, desperate as her eyes began to move over the page.

There was awful few minutes of silence as her eyes moved faster and faster over the letter. I was breathing hard, trying to control my panic as tears began to stream down her face. Finally, she lowered the letter in shaking hands and stared at me, the expression on her face almost horrified.

I tried to smile but again, it faded. "I'm sorry. I didn't want... I wanted to tell you myself."

She continued to stare at me, her mouth slightly open. Then, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Are you going to say anything?" I asked, hating the silence.

"No," she mouthed. Then, in a whisper, "Whittle? Do you have something to tell me?"

I sat up straighter, holding her hand tighter and hoping I appeared confident. I looked into her beautiful eyes. "I love you, Sween Furrow and I... I..." I laughed wryly as a bit of moisture sprang in my eyes. "I think someone must be cutting an onion nearby. Is mother making soup?" It was the worst thing that had ever come out of my mouth.

Sween sat there, face full of shock and confusion. Then, she started to laugh, harder and harder until I was afraid my failure had cost her her sanity.

"That," she said, through tears of mirth, "was the worst confession of love I've ever heard."

"Oh? Have you heard a lot?"

She slapped me, in play, I assumed, since she still smiled. "Well, at least I know the blood loss didn't affect your head," she said. "No more damage than before."

I laughed, but my stomach still flipped uneasily. When our laughter subsided, I took another deep breath. "So... does this mean it's your turn to say you love me back?"

Her eyes widened for a moment before another smile broke through. She brought my hand to her lips and kissed it gently before laying back on the bed. "I think it means that it's time I help your mother with that soup," she whispered, getting to her feet. "Goodnight, Whittle."

She left the room before I could say another word.

I felt the weight of Vicca's handkerchief in my pocket.


	11. Chapter 11 - Garten

It's hard to think of treachery when victory still has you on its wings.

Wings, I thought giddily. Rabbits don't fly! But my elation whispered to me that maybe they could one day. Fly, rise and drive a double-edged blade into Morbin Blackhawk's puny heart. It was the thirteenth day since my fellows had rescued me from Garlacks' camp. The slash across my chest throbbed, threatening to bring a surge of hopelessness with it. But I shook it off.

I was marching toward the King's tent, head held high, the scratches and gashes from the battle still stinging, blood still crusted on my fur. I was a hero. I was brother to two brave, future warriors and my sister was the most beautiful doe in Natalia. Well, the second most beautiful. Because I had Sween Longtreader waiting for me back home in Ansel's Hollow.

The thought of how proud she'd be of me, how awed by my courage to stand up to wolves and raptors, how enthralled by my fierce protection of her and all that she loved, all of it gave me the boldness to step across the threshold and bow to my King.

"Captain Garten Longtreader. Please rise, hero-buck."

I rose, breathing deep the scent of dried sweat and blood that wafted from my skin. "We won, your Majesty! We've beaten Garlacks back, King Bright!" My eyes darted around the tent, passing over the dark and brooding Captain Helmer, who still managed to look personally offended by a victory in which he played a great role. "I don't think they'll ever recover from it, sir!"

"Yes," King Jupiter said, his voice gentle and quiet. Too quiet. Too gentle. "You've done great work, Captain. Excellent work."

My heart glowed even further at his bolstering words.

"But I have news, son. Grave news." The King motioned to a chair nearby. "Please, sit."

My elation wavered. "But, your Majesty, I don't want to sit. We have a victory to celebrate and honours to bestow-"

"He said to sit, Bucko," Helmer said, his voice sounding strangely less growly than usual.

Confused, I sat. "Okay, I'm sitting, my King. What is it you need to tell me?"

The King gave a deep sigh. "I'm afraid there's no easy way to say this. Your sister, Garten, Vicca Longtreader, has been killed."

The uncertain smile from moments before froze on my face as my entire body stiffened. I stared at them, my mind blank and grasping to understand the words he had spoken. "What?" I shook my head. "I… I don't understand."

I began to shake uncontrollably as he continued on, his face grieved and grey with sorrow. "There was an attack, Garten. To all accounts and descriptions, it seems the wolf Sholne Garlackson encountered two does, one of them your sister, in the forest. Vicca fought him off and inflicted grave injury on the enemy but… lost her life in the struggle."

Tears began to flow down my face. Worse was the deadness in my heart. Vicca was dead. Killed. Killed, by a wolf whose name was Sholne. Sholne. I knew that name. "No, no, no… No! This can't be!" I leapt to my feet and knocked the chair behind me to the floor. "It's a lie!" I growled. "It's all a lie!"

The King shook his head. "I'm afraid it isn't, friend. She was buried on your farm five days ago." He bowed his head. "I'm so, so sorry, Garten."

I continued to grasp at my thoughts, clutching desperately at each one and then releasing it again, in search of any kind of clarity. Inside, my heart was tearing itself apart. "An-and the other doe? Who was it? Who was walking with her?"

The King hesitated, glancing at Helmer.

Helmer stepped forward. "The doe's name was Sween. Sween Furrow."

"Sween," I whispered. "Is she… is she still alive?"

The dull throb of my heartbeat seemed to last forever before I got an answer. "She's alive and uninjured. Her life was saved by one Whittle Longtreader. He was practicing in the fields nearby when he heard the doe Sween shouting for help. He managed to fend off Sholne before he could do any more damage. He's your brother, I believe?" Helmer's brow raised.

"Mm? Oh, yes, yes. The brother's my buck. I mean… the buck's my brother…" I trailed off. Sholne. There was that name again. I pulled at my ears, feeling - no, drowning in - the awful reality that was surfacing. "It was my fault," I whispered. "All my fault."

"There, there," the King said, getting up from his throne to cross to my side. "It was no one's fault but our enemy's. There was no warning. There wasn't even a way for you to prevent what happened."

Little did he know how poisonous his words were, seeping into my ears and clouding my head. He was wrong. There had been both a warning and a way I could've stopped it. But I didn't. Instead, I played the fool. "The stupid, defiant, fool," I murmured to myself.

"What was that?" The King put a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged away. The King shared a look with Helmer. "You've had a hard day, soldier. Why don't you go take a rest?"

My mind worked furiously. This was it. This was the cost of defiance, this was the price. This deadness inside, this pain, this utter breaking of my spirit. This was what happened to those who defied him.

The awful, deafening shriek echoed in my ears as the deep gash across my chest gave a painful throb. Morbin Blackhawk. King Garlacks. The two most deadly forces in history were united and they were rising. They could send an assassin to take out a doe on the other side of the great wood within days. More than that, they knew exactly who would hurt me the most.

Fighting was futile. Even if I killed a hundred wolves, there'd be another hundred to kill the rest of my family. And Sween. Tears pricked my eyes. If anything had happened to her…

"Soldier? You can go now."

I looked up. "No, no, no, I'm fine."

Helmer raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"I… I will be." I stood a little taller, though everything in me wanted to sag to the floor and sob, sob like I did on that night I met Morbin face-to-face. The memory jarred more hopeless resolve into my heart. "Your Majesty, Lord Captain, we can't keep going like this. If we had bucks, trained bucks, in every corner of Natalia with their families, these kinds of attacks wouldn't happen. The wolves have taken a terrible blow today, and the raptors didn't even attend the battle! Our scouts say they've retreated into the High Bleaks."

The King frowned and rubbed his chin. "What's your point, Captain Longtreader?"

"My point… My point is that we need to pursue peace, my King. Our beautiful Natalia, our sacred Great Wood, even, has been rent apart by war! It's time we mend it."

"The Mended Wood," the King murmured.

"Yes," I said, breathlessly. I remember sitting on the porch with Sween. I imagined going home and sitting there again one day, a day when we could be safe, both of us living lives of peace and prosperity as the right-hands of a great King Morbin. No more death. No more going away to war every few years. No more of this suffocating pain inside. "The Mended Wood."


End file.
